


Affliction of Feeling

by elenajames



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Cock & Ball Torture, Crying, Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 12:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/elenajames
Summary: Maybe it’s because he wasn’t expecting to hear it. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t ready for the way the words made his gut clench and his cock twitch. And maybe he doesn’t freak out because Travis is freaking out, face gone red as he tries to pull away from Claude.





	Affliction of Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd.

Maybe it’s because he wasn’t expecting to hear it. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t ready for the way the words made his gut clench and his cock twitch. And maybe he doesn’t freak out because Travis is freaking out, face gone red as he tries to pull away from Claude. Claude shushes the words spilling from his mouth, hushes him with soft sounds and gentler hands until Travis is touching him tentatively and opening his mouth carefully beneath Claude’s lips. 

 

Claude’s heard a lot of things in bed in his time,  _ fuck  _ and  _ please _ and  _ Claude _ being the most common as of late. He can’t say he’s ever heard or expected to hear,  _ God, fucking hurt me, please _ . 

 

“I’m sorry,” Travis whispers, the words half muffled against Claude’s mouth. “Just - just pretend I didn’t say that, we don’t have to - please don’t leave, Claude.” 

 

“Shh, Trav. Shh. It’s okay. I’m not leaving.” Claude nuzzles Travis’ cheek, boxing him in with his body to keep him in place. “Not this time, alright? We’ll talk about it.” 

 

Pressed this close, Claude can feel when Travis nods. Claude gives an experimental thrust, and the tiny moan it earns him is answer enough. He sets up a steady, easy rhythm, holding Travis close and thrusting in long, deep motions. Travis clings, now, gasping against Claude’s ear and groaning long and low when Claude reaches between them to jerk him off. They’re sweaty and sticky in the aftermath, but Travis snuggles into Claude’s side all the same. Claude has to hold him tight to keep him from slipping away when he’s had enough time to come down, and only manages to sleep when Travis does, too. 

 

They don’t, of course, have time to talk about it the next day. There’s gameday routine to get through, superstitions to follow that require Travis to go home and Claude to focus. They win, much to Claude’s delight, but Travis gives him a shy look in the locker room and slips away with Ivan after media and showers. It makes sense, really; Ivan’s technically his boyfriend. But Claude can admit to being a little disappointed when that same guiltily interested spark of lust lights up in his belly as he thinks about  _ hurt me, please. _

 

The words are still niggling at his brain as he pushes his shorts down in bed that night, fisting his cock tight and picturing thin pink lips and purpling hockey bruises. They’re still there when he’s come, a mess on his belly and wonder in his mind about whether Ivan is more than just Travis’ boyfriend. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ TK: can we come over?  _

_ G: we? _

_ TK: me and provy. to talk? _

_ G: yeah. of course. _

 

Claude stares at his answer for a moment, then looks around his room. With a sigh, he rolls himself out of bed to pick up some stray clothing to throw in the hamper and totes the scattered dishes down to the kitchen. The rest of the place is clean, at least, and Harvey goes readily to his soft kennel when Claude calls him, asleep well before a quick knock sounds at the door. 

 

Travis offers a quick smile, hip-checking Claude as he goes by, but there’s a frisson of anxiety and tension from him and Ivan when the older of the pair steps through the doorway. Claude shuts the door and locks it carefully, giving Ivan a quick clap on the shoulder and coaxing him toward the living room. Travis, as always, has gone ahead and made himself at home on one of the long couches, and there’s another tense moment before Ivan takes the place beside him. Claude watches with familiar fondness as Travis leans into Ivan’s space, one of Ivan’s arms coming up to wrap protectively around him. It’s a clear but quiet message about Ivan’s stance that warms Claude in an odd way; Travis should always have someone looking out for his best interests, even here. Especially here. 

 

Claude takes his favorite chair, and plucks the remote from the coffee table to offer it to the other man. Ivan refuses with an odd smile, casting a quick glance at Travis before looking back at Claude. 

 

“We all know why we’re here.” 

 

“You’re his dom,” Claude says by way of reply, and Ivan offers a short nod. 

 

“He’s here because I needed him here,” Travis interjects, shifting Claude’s attention away from Ivan. The younger man pinks up a little, but maintains his eye contact. “I - I trust you, G. I do. But Prov is the first person I ever subbed for and I . . . I don’t think I could do this without him.” 

 

Sitting back a little, Claude considers what Travis is saying. They’re both watching him seriously, a touch of nervousness in Travis’ face, sharp scrutiny in Ivan’s. Up until now, Travis being with each of them had been a simple, unspoken thing; no jealousy, no hurt feelings, just sex and closeness. 

 

“I understand,” Claude finally says, gentle but confident. “And I’m okay with that, if you’re both sure.” 

 

Travis shoots a glance at Ivan who smiles - more sweetly and indulgently than Claude has ever seen. “We are,” they say together, in a move so obviously practiced Claude can’t help but laugh. 

 

“Alright, then. Ivan, you wanna start?” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me your safeword again.” 

 

“You  _ know _ what my safeword is Clau- ow!” Travis rubs his arm where Ivan pinched him, pouting at his boyfriend. 

 

“Behave, Travis,” Ivan says coolly. “Take this seriously or I’ll take you home.” 

 

Still pouting a little, Travis nods. “London.” 

 

“Thank you.” Tugging Travis in a little, Claude rewards him with a brief kiss. He smiles when Travis hums happily beneath his lips, trying to press closer even as Claude pulls away.

 

Ivan’s slipped away to wait next to the bed when Claude checks on him, but he gives a small smile and nod, encouraging them to keep going. Travis is more obedient when Claude strips him down, lifting his arms so Claude can pull off his shirt and stepping readily out of his boxers and sweats. 

 

Claude always likes getting to look at Travis, the thickness of his torso and thighs, the heft of his cock between his legs. He blushes so warmly; it rises high in his cheeks and brushes over his collarbones, shy even when he’s wanton. Claude loves it. 

 

“C’mon. Up on the bed.” Ivan gets up to help Claude settle Travis up against the headboard, pillows behind his back so he’s at a comfortable incline. This time, Ivan stays with them, taking a place along Travis’ left side, leaving just enough space that Claude can kneel over Travis without them touching - something Ivan wasn’t sure he was ready for. 

 

Leaving his pants on, Claude rids himself of his shirt and knee-walks up the bed to settle between Travis’ legs. Claude dips in for another kiss but ends up hissing when Travis nips him. Travis yelps as Claude pulls back, Ivan gripping one of his nipples tight and twisting sharply. He holds it there until Travis squirms, prompting Claude to pin him back against the headboard. 

 

“He can be a brat,” Ivan murmurs. He lets go and Claude watches as Travis’ nipple suffuses with red, turning dark the longer he looks. “When he wants it, anyway. He can be good, too.” 

 

Travis huffs then and the eyeroll he gives doesn’t escape Claude’s notice. Mimicking Ivan’s actions, Claude twists Travis’ other nipple until he squirms beneath the touch. He’s undeniably hard and Claude feels a shiver of lust when Travis fists his hand in the sheets to try to restrain himself. With more than a little interest, Claude lets go of Travis’ nipple and watches it shift through shades until it matches the other one, dark and warmly red. 

 

“It looks good, right?” Ivan prompts, but Claude’s nodding before he even finishes speaking. He’s not expecting the thickness in his throat when he tries to talk. 

 

“Yeah. S’good.” 

 

Travis shivers all over at the words. Ivan reaches out to brush fingers down his boyfriend’s arm, a touch that Travis leans into and Claude - 

 

“Can you hold him?” It’s impulsive and not exactly what they talked about, but it’s not outside of Ivan’s limits. 

 

“...I’m staying clothed,” Ivan says, and that wary tone isn’t something Claude ever wants to hear from him again. 

 

“Of course. I’m not asking for anything else, Ivan. I just - I don’t think I can restrain him, not this time,” Claude admits. They were going to work together to keep Travis where they wanted him and - as much as Claude likes him writhing beneath his hands - the thought of holding him down while doing it makes him nervous and his touch hesitant. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Ivan arranges them so Travis’ legs are on the outside of his, spread wide so Claude has easy access to every inch of him. Travis wriggles, ostensibly getting comfortable, but Ivan stills him with strong arms around his chest and a sharp nip at his throat. 

 

Honestly, it’s . . . overwhelming. There are a lot of things on Travis’ white list, even taking out the things that are hard limits for Claude and Ivan. They’d narrowed it down to a handful of things Claude felt comfortable trying their first time around, but to be trusted like this - 

 

“Claude? It’s okay,” Travis says softly. “Just touch me first.” 

 

That Claude can do. The inside of Travis’ thighs are soft, downy with fine hair that grows coarser as Claude drags his hands down his legs. Claude can feel the fabric of Ivan’s jeans beneath his knuckles as he runs his hands back up the outside of Travis’ legs; looking up, he meets dark eyes and Ivan just offers a quick nod to let him know the incidental touch is okay. 

 

Travis’ skin is soft and there’s just the barest give beneath Claude’s fingertips when he runs them over Travis’ hips. He watches as muscles twitch and flex beneath his touch, and Travis gasps softly when Claude’s fingers circle his tender nipples. Curiously, Claude pinches the skin there, pleasure throbbing between his legs when Travis’ mouth drops open and he jerks like he can’t decide if pushing closer or pulling away from Claude’s hands would hurt more. 

 

“Fuck. Fuck, that’s -” So much hotter than Claude thought it would be. There are bruises along Travis’ ribcage and Claude switches his attention to there, scratching lightly before pinching between the evenly-spaced marks, following the line of them steadily downward. Ivan has to tighten his hold to keep Travis in place, murmuring quiet Russian into Travis’ ear. Claude presses one thumb into a darker-colored bruise, presses harder when Travis groans low and drops his head back against Ivan’s shoulder. 

 

“Hold him,” Claude warns Ivan, reaching down to pinch the soft skin just above Travis’ dick. It feels a touch vicious, but Claude twists and Travis keens loud. 

 

“That’s enough.” Ivan’s tone is mild, but Claude listens instantly, letting go and rubbing his fingers over the abused area. “He can take a little more, but not now.” 

 

_ Not this time _ , is what Claude hears, and he gets it. He doesn’t know Travis’ tells well enough, not like Ivan does, not when it comes to this. God knows he wants to do this right, so Claude meets Ivan’s eyes and finds a great deal of comfort in the calm he finds there. 

 

“Color, Travis?” 

 

“Green.” Travis is panting a little, but he doesn’t hesitate in answering. His cock hangs hard between his thighs, freshly blooming bruises all down his sides. He looks good, and Claude wants more. 

 

Ivan seems to read his mind, smiling knowingly before spreading his legs - and thus Travis’ - just a little further apart. Claude takes the invite and cups Travis balls first, rolling them gently in his palm. It’s easy enough to bounce them lightly, just barely enough for them to leave his hand; Travis moaning is encouraging, so Claude goes for just a little bit more. The contact barely amounts to a tap, but it makes Travis twitch anyway. 

 

Claude builds slow until he’s landing steady slaps to Travis’ sac. They’re not hard, but he can see the way the ache builds. His fingers gets hot, and Travis starts to strain and jerk in Ivan’s hold. Ivan follows his movement when Travis tries to lift his legs, making sure to keep him open to Claude. 

 

“C’mon, Trav. You can behave better than that.” Ivan whispers the words close to Travis’ ear, biting at his jaw possessively. His eyes are dark when they meet Claude’s, the faint quirk of his lips laced with enough approval that Claude shivers with it. Travis nods, whining high in his throat, visibly fighting with himself, but his legs lower all the same. 

 

The three of them settle into a rhythm, Claude slowing his slaps when Travis gets a little overwhelmed, Ivan soothing and coaxing in turns, Travis gasping and writhing in Ivan’s hold. It’s heady, leaving Claude aching, dry-mouthed as he watches Travis react beneath his hands. 

 

“Touch him, Claude,” Ivan murmurs at last and Travis groans aloud at the words, hips thrusting upward in anticipation. Hushing him again, Ivan runs a hand down his chest to help hold him in place as Claude reaches for his cock. 

 

Travis is slick at the tip and plenty hard, but the first stroke is still not great. Claude reaches for the lube on the bedside, drizzling a little over his palm. A second stroke is good, easy, and Claude watches Travis’ face as he jerks him off. There’s a wrinkle between his brows that looks pained, but the ‘O’ of his mouth is all pleasure. 

 

Sliding his hand down further, Ivan cups Travis’ surely-aching balls, rolling them in his hand before squeezing them in a grip that seems way too tight. Claude wants to wince, but Travis gives a pained-sounding shout and comes over his belly and his lovers’ hands. 

 

Claude jerks him through it until Ivan gently nudges his hand away, leaving Travis limp and heaving between them. It hits Claude, suddenly, that not only is Travis gasping for breath, but he’s sobbing as well, tears rolling down his cheeks as he turns to bury his face in Ivan’s neck. 

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, did I-” Claude chokes a little, panic tight in his chest. 

 

“Shh, no. No, he’s fine. This happens, but only sometimes.” Ivan’s voice is steady, calming, and Claude has a moment to feel a little embarrassed that the younger man is the more composed between them. “We should have warned you, but I didn’t think - I’m sorry.” 

 

Gingerly, Ivan rearranges Travis so he can cradle him, rubbing gently at his back. Not knowing what else to do, Claude knee-walks himself closer and presses a gentle kiss to Travis’ shoulder, letting one of his hands join Ivan’s. Travis shifts then, pushing himself up and into Claude’s space and Claude holds him close instinctively. 

 

“He was good for us, wasn’t he, Claude?” Ivan prompts as he sits up to sandwich Travis between them.

 

“So good. You were so fucking good, Travis,” Claude agrees, pressing a kiss into Travis’ sweaty hair and nuzzling him gently. Travis’ breathing settles after a few minutes of being held and rocked, each of them praising him in low voices until he finally looks up. 

 

It’s a little heartbreaking, the red rim around his eyes and tearstains on his cheeks; Travis looks softer and more vulnerable than he ever does and it yanks at something in Claude’s chest. With gentle fingers, Claude tips Travis’ face a little further up so he can kiss him gently. Ivan does the same, closer to Claude in that moment than he’s ever been off the ice. Something passes between them then, the same kind of tacit understanding they’ve always had about the three of them. 

 

Claude stays, petting Travis while Ivan retrieves a couple of washcloths to wipe them both down. His hands are reverent, skilled as he gently cleans between Travis’ legs. There’s a moment of hesitation before he wipes at Claude’s chest and belly, but he nods steadily at the word of thanks Claude offers him when he’s done. 

 

With little coaxing, Travis lets them lay him out between them, Claude pressed up against his back and face tucked into Ivan’s chest. He’s quiet now, curling his fingers in the fabric of Ivan’s shirt. Claude’s certain he’s falling asleep until he starts to talk. 

 

“I didn’t - Claude,” he protests, voice raw but fretful, body going tense again. “I wanted to - with both of you.” 

 

“Hey, no. You were perfect.” Claude runs a hand up his side, kissing his neck and shoulder lightly. “Perfect, Travis, okay?” 

 

“There’s always next time,” Ivan offers, meeting Claude’s eyes over Travis’ head. The smile that curls his lips then is shy, but pleased when Claude nods in answer. 

 

Travis sniffles and sighs, relaxing again. “Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Claude and Ivan keep watch while Travis drifts off to sleep. They risk talking quietly once he’s snoring lightly, simple things about games and plays to pass the time until Travis wakes from his nap; they’ll wait until later to discuss what “always” and “next time” are really going to mean for them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts and have more content over at [tumblr](http://iaintafraidofnoghostbear.tumblr.com/).


End file.
